


Cat that Got the Canary

by Madame de flammes (owlaholic68)



Series: Canary in a Coal Mine [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 21:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18302666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/Madame%20de%20flammes
Summary: Definition: A person who appears self-satisfied or smug.The Archmage Alandur still harbors a grudge from his last encounter with Canary. That day, he swore that he would make her and her ragtag group regret defying him.





	Cat that Got the Canary

Wakefulness comes slowly and with a throbbing head. There’s an achy fogginess there too that belies a Sleep spell or some similar enchantment.

Canary winces and cracks one eye open. The last thing she remembers is opening a suspicious-looking book sitting on the desk of an old lair they were investigating. The book had naturally fallen open to the center page. A sigil inscribed there had started glowing and Canary had had enough time to yell a warning to her companions before everything abruptly went dark.

Magic shit for sure.

When Canary opens her eyes, the first thing she notices is that she’s sitting in a chair. Not bound, just sitting. There’s a wooden table in front of her. She doesn’t see any of her weapons, but her pack is sitting on the table. Some objects are strewn on the surface: her mining lanterns, rope, bedroll, and some rations. Peeking out of the top, Canary can see her climbing harness and, from the two open side pouches, the pitons and hammer she uses to safely climb surfaces.

She blinks and realizes why her pack is open like this: the Archmage of the Order is sifting through it, muttering to himself as he sifts through supplies.

He looks up at Canary’s growl and grins. “Ah, you’re finally awake-”

Her aggressive lunge is stopped short as her limbs lock up. She nearly topples forward before the Archmage lazily waves his outstretched hand and shifts back into her seat.

“Now, now, let’s not be so hasty.” He keeps that hand out while he finishes going through her stuff. Canary’s heart is pounding with a mixture of fury and sinking fear. She’s alone with someone that she didn’t have the _greatest_ interaction with last time:

She and her friends attacked him in a way that he probably did not enjoy at all. _And_ Canary may have stolen a precious book and a key, both things that were technically illegal for her group to have possession of or even know how to use. Then they forced him to flee, turning the unexpected battle in their favor.

In Canary’s experience, authority figures rarely take that sort of interaction lightly. But it also speaks volumes to the Archmage’s continued arrogance that he’s left her unbound. Her weapons aren’t here, but she doesn’t need weaponry to be dangerous.

“So, where is it?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Canary grits out through frozen jaws. She, of course, knows _exactly_ what he’s looking for, and she knows he won’t find it. Steven still had the Key and Canary had given the Book to Ralofir a week ago, in case this very situation happened.

The Archmage, Alandur, sighs and rolls his eyes. “Always so stubborn, aren’t you? And such a terrible liar. Brute force won’t win you this one, girl. You would have to be much more cunning than me to bluff your way out, and well,” he chuckles and the sound grates on Canary’s ears. “I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.”

He comes around the table to stand directly in front of her and Canary wants _so badly_ to punch that smug smile off his stupid fucking face, but she’s still frozen in place despite her best efforts to break free. Alandur reaches into a small pouch at his hip and withdraws a small chunk of honeycomb. He breaks off a piece and smears it across the tip of Canary’s nose. She scrunches up her nose best as she can at the weird smell. Her glare turns into a confused stare. What is he doing-

Whatever magic is holding Canary in place snaps and she shakes her head before starting to lunge forward.

“I _suggest_ you sit still while we have our nice little talk.”

Without really meaning to, Canary’s body stops. There’s a fog at the corners of her brain that is turning that suggestion into a command. She settles back into the chair. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

Alandur smiles that dastardly smirk. “Just a little trick to make this whole process a lot less painful.  You really don’t need to fight me on this, girl. Just answer my questions _truthfully_ and we’ll soon be done here.” He leans against the table and skims his eyes across her face. “We can even start off easy. Tell me your name.”

“Canary,” she mutters, hating herself for responding. Damn charm spells. She never was any good at resisting them. “Canary Corbeille.”

“Canary.” Her name sounds terrible in his voice. Canary grips the arms of her chair and tries to resist the spell again, but fails once more. “Canary, where is that Book you stole from me?”

“I don’t have it.” The best non-answer she can manage right now.

Alandur sighs, his smile turning condescending. “Nice try. Who has it right now?”

“R-R-Ranger. Elf. I gave it to him for safekeeping.”

“Name?”

Canary grits her teeth. She’s already given too much away. She locks her jaw tight and Ralofir’s name comes out barely audible.

“Tell me his name. Now.” Alandur leans into the spell.

“Ralofir.”

“Good girl. Last name?”

“Don’t know.”

“No matter. That wasn’t so difficult now, was it? And how about the Key?”

Canary growls in the back of her throat. “Gave it to the kid.”

“Kid? The one wearing that ridiculous wizard hat? Now, how about you tell me his name?”

“Steven.”

“See, that’s all I needed to know!” Alandur claps and turns his back to Canary. “See, if you lot had cooperated sooner, we wouldn’t have had to go through all this! You’ve been very helpful in my investigation, Canary. I think we’re done here.”

 _I suggest you sit still while we have our nice little talk_ is how Alandur had phrased his original Suggestion. Unintentionally, his dismissal has clearly ended their talk. The anchors of his spell start to unhook themselves from Canary’s racing brain. She waits a second while she regains control of her body, then she strikes.

Alandur shouts in surprise when Canary slams him face-first into the wooden table, pinning him to the surface. He flails and tries to break free. Too focused on keeping him down, Canary doesn’t see one of his hands dart to his side pouch until he’s throwing a handful of sand in the air.

Colors and lights burst behind Canary’s eyes. Completely blind, her grip loosens. She can feel her opponent wiggling free.

She can’t see, but she knows her pack is on the table. With her left hand, she fumbles for it, fingers finding the side pouch and closing around a metallic piton. It’s not a sharp spike, but in the absence of other weaponry, it’ll do.

The Archmage screams as Canary drives the piton into his hand with the force of her fear and desperation.

While Canary holds the piton in his hand, she blindly tries to find the other side pouch where she knows she keeps her hammer. Alandur’s scream turns into a whined curse and a mouthful of arcane words.

A bolt of electricity travels up his hand into the metallic piton, then into Canary’s arm. She spasms and shrieks. Her head spins. Panic is starting to turn into anger, but she needs to keep her head here.

Her hand closes around the hammer. She brings it down hard on the piton. Once, twice, three times until she hears the _thunk_ of it imbedding into the wood.

Canary is no stranger to violence, but as her vision clears, she almost wishes she was still blind. Alandur is curled over his left hand, still wailing from the pain. Canary releases her grapple and stumbles backwards. She – she just fucking _nailed_ someone’s hand to a table. This is not the familiar telegraphed swing of her axe, this is not the obvious head-on assaults she’s used to.

This is cruel and _terrible._

“I – I-” Her mouth doesn’t want to work. She’s on the verge of apologizing but stops herself. Gathers her scrambling brain. Takes a deep breath and shakily dumps her scattered possessions back into her pack, then hefts it onto her back. She keeps her pickaxe in her hand. It’s not a great weapon but it’s better than nothing.

“You’ll _pay_ for this, songbird,” Alandur snarls. “I was willing to let you off easy, but now you and your friends will fucking suffer for this.”

Canary gasps at the nickname. He has no way of knowing how important that is to her. _My little songbird,_ Rosie had often called her. She turns from the door and forces herself to look at what she’s done.

“L-Leave us alone.” She readjusts her shaky grip on the handle of her trusty pickaxe. “Just leave us alone and this will all stop.”

“Fat chance of that now.”

“Fine.” Canary steadies herself and turns back towards her exit. Hopefully an escape from here. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll see you again, Canary. That’s a promise.”

Canary says nothing. She opens the door and flees.

**Author's Note:**

> owlaholic68.tumblr.com for more D&D action!
> 
> Inspired by the current campaign I'm playing, where our group did some pretty illegal stuff (in the eyes of the mighty Order) and may have gained a new powerful enemy...


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